


Fahrenheit

by gintokiu



Category: Gintama
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Drunken sex, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, GinHijiGin, Heavy Drinking, Hook-Up, M/M, More characters to be added, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-03-02 11:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18809917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gintokiu/pseuds/gintokiu
Summary: “I understand, sometimes I immerse myself in work as well.” Gintoki says, eyes too focused on the vice-commander, that thing that Hijikata is missing taunting him once more. “But mine is a whole lot different than yours, taicho. More relaxing; makes it easier on me to forget about everything else than someone like yourself.”Hijikata narrows his eyes, drink running too low for his comfort. “That so?” Is all he says, and something dangerous flashes in Gintoki’s smile. He’s being led onto something― like a fish nibbling at the end of a lure, he’s wanting to be caught; and Hijikata’s in just the type of mood to play chase.





	1. A Decent Priced Blazer, Some Kinks, and a Good Lay.

**Author's Note:**

> new story, same gays
> 
> also, gintoki and sougo are a Force To Be Reckoned With.

The streets of Shinjuku are bustling, the Friday nightlife overrun with businessmen going to party with their coworkers after a long week. The sky tower is a lit in the distance, it’s purple glow illuminating the foggy, overcast sky. There’s a sheen of rain over the top of every surface, the ground reflecting the lights shine as he walked down the sidewalk, cars zooming by, the sound of water beneath their tires. Another night. 

Kondo is beside him, holding his jacket in the crook of his arm as he laughed about something Yamazaki had done earlier that day. Hijikata’s barely paying attention, more focused on the crowd and his cigarette than anything. They’re both off duty, Sougo promising to join them for drinks after he got off. He’d let Kondo pick the bar they were going to, not that he wanted to go out drinking tonight because he didn’t, however, he’d made a pact the last time he skipped out and now here he was, trapped. 

Tokyo’s thick crowds are something he, a country boy, would never quite get over. They gave him a certain anxiety that a police officer probably shouldn't have, but nonetheless, carried anyways. Not that he didn’t love the city, it was much more accessible and welcoming than his life back when he was younger, but there was always a bad to every good situation, and that just happened to be Tokyo’s. 

“Toshi, would you be a dear and call Sougo to see where he’s at? His shift should’ve ended a while ago.” Kondo says, stopping them to wait for the crosswalk signal to turn green. 

“Augh, only if you stop calling me that…”

“What?” His superior laughs, “Toshi, or a dear?” 

“Both, but a dear mostly. Makes me sound like your wife or something.” He states, flipping the phone open after dialing Sougo, watching the cars pass by as it rang. 

“He didn’t answer, but you know him...” Hijikata says with a huff. “Bastard is probably already there.” 

“That’s true.”

The light flashes green, indicating they’re safe to walk. A couple of young teens brush past them, jogging down through the other people crossing from the opposite direction, laughing and holding hands. Ah, that carefree energy. Seems like a lifetime ago the last time he wasn’t only focused on work. Now that he thinks about it, that’s probably why Kondo forces him out so often.

It’s several more minutes of walking till they reach the bar, a rather upbeat and populated one, aka, not the type Hijikata was too happy to be visiting. It’s loud even from the outside and if the drinks aren’t good, he’s not planning on making this a long-term expense. Sure enough, as soon as they push open the doors Sougo is the first head they see, chatting up some guy with an unruly head of hair and some red framed glasses. 

Kondo smiles and waves at them, Sougo looking over directly at Hijikata with a grin and a few whispers to the guy in the glasses, who then chuckles and nods at whatever was said. He doesn’t pay the two any mind, instead following over Kondo to the bartender to order drinks. God knows he needs them. 

He orders something strong, forgetting the name of it immediately after he says it. His level of caring is at an unusual low, and he’s not planning on making a lot of conversation as soon as he gets the glass in his hand. After they’ve gotten their drinks, Kondo leads them back over to the table by the entrance that Sougo and the mystery man were at. 

Kondo shakes the hand of the guy, so that means Hijikata has to as well. They sit down after the greeting, Sougo finishing the rest of his drink and calling for another as a waitress walked by. Kondo says something to the guy, who Hijikata is just now noticing is wearing a pretty decently priced blazer. Must be some upcoming bigshot for a company or something, he decides. That’s the only way someone could pull off red-framed glasses, with money. 

“This is Sakata Gintoki, seventy-seven, single.” Sougo looks directly over to Hijikata as he says the last word, which Hijikata vaguely catches through his peripherals from where he was staring out the window. 

“Ah, a pleasure to meet you, Sakata-san! I’m Kondo Isao and this is Hijikata Toshiro. I’m sure you’re well acquainted with Sougo already.” Kondo laughs and Gintoki smiles and nods as he takes a drink. “What do you do for work?”

Gintoki glances over to his left where Sougo was sitting, who then interjects before Gintoki could set his glass down on the table. “He’s an entrepreneur. Successful businessman.” 

“I see, glad that’s working out for you, Sakata-san! That explains the nice clothes!” Kondo remarks but Hijikata’s not convinced. Sougo’s acting weird, he usually doesn’t talk for other people like that, especially on something that’s personal to them. 

“Entrepreneurs are what criminals typically describe their jobs as.” Hijikata asserted, turning his head from the window to face this Gintoki character, leaning back in his chair. “Surely you’re not an _entrepreneur,_ correct?”

“No, I assure you, officer, I’m a law-abiding citizen.” The perm says, eyes not straying from his own, smirk shy across his lips but definitely there. There’s tension between them, maybe because of the way that Sougo is puppeteering their whole meeting, but he and this friend of the tan haired sadist are not getting along. “What do you do in the force?”

“I’m vice-commander.” 

“Ah, that explains your sense of smell.” 

“Sense of smell?”

“—He means the cologne you’re wearing is fitting of a vice-commander, Hijikata-san.” Sougo inputs, once more cutting them off from their own conversation. Gintoki takes another sip of his drink, eyes glancing around the bar idly. A man waves hello to him from across the bar, and Gintoki gives him a hello back with the raise of his glass. 

“Popular here?” Kondo asks, trying to fix the falling conversation. 

“I know my way around.” That smirk is back on his lips again, and Hijikata knows there’s something that he’s missing here but he just can't quite put his finger on it. “Comes with the job, I guess.” 

“Ah, I see. I, too, know my way around.” Kondo says with a wide grin, waving hi to one of the bartenders who gave him the middle finger back. “Ah, she’s beautiful as ever~” 

“You know ‘Tae?” The perm asks, all attention now back on Kondo. 

“I mean of course I know her, she’s only the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.” He says confidently, eyes not straying from the brown-haired woman. “She’s why I come here, after all.”

Hijikata’s eyes wander back to outside, watching the people pass by the window through the light rain. He can’t help but think about Mitsuba every time women come up in their conversations, the same guilt from years ago latching around his throat and rendering him unable to speak on the topic.

He knows that’s why Sougo despises him so much, why he’s always out for his life. He doesn’t blame him, he broke her heart and she died full of regrets; unfitting for a woman of her beautiful character. Of course, that left Hijikata with his own share of death-bed woes, those he’ll never be able to get rid of. Not that he would ever try, it’s his own cowardice that led her to die in such a way, after all.

“What about you?” Gintoki says, looking at Hijikata, lips resting on his glass. 

“Huh?”

“Do you have someone special?” Gintoki repeats, and Sougo sarcastically raises his eyebrows with a laugh. 

Hijikata glares, bite in his words. “No, I don’t.”

“But you could.” Sougo mutters.

“What are you getting at, you piece of shit?” 

Of course, he doesn’t get a reply, leaving the whole table in a mess of awkward silence for a moment too long. 

“Toshi is too focused on work.” Kondo inputs, “I try to get him out in hopes that he will meet someone but I’m finding that he might be unable to focus on anything _but_ work…” 

“And that’s how I like it.” 

“I understand, sometimes I immerse myself in work as well.” Gintoki says, eyes too focused on the vice-commander, that _thing_ that Hijikata is missing taunting him once more. “But mine is a whole lot different than yours, taicho. More relaxing; makes it easier on me to forget about everything else than someone like yourself.” 

Hijikata narrows his eyes, drink running too low for his comfort. “That so?” Is all he says, and something dangerous flashes in Gintoki’s smile. He’s being led onto something― like a fish nibbling at the end of a lure, he’s wanting to be caught― and Hijikata’s in just the type of mood to play chase.

Sougo laughs at something unknown to everyone but him, and Kondo’s too busy watching this _“Tae”_ girl to pay attention to what’s unfolding before him. Out of the blue, Gintoki excuses himself for a moment, going over to talk to a group of men that had just walked in, people he seemed well accompanied to, judging by their body language. 

Sougo looks Hijikata over, a sadistic grin on his stupid face. “You’re quite the talker tonight, Hijikata-san.” 

“Am I?”

“Yes, you’re saying a lot of things you usually wouldn’t to someone new.” He pauses, swirling the ice around in his drink aimlessly. “What’s the reason?” 

Hijikata shrugs, watching Gintoki interact with one of the men. “Didn’t know I was doing it in the first place, how am I supposed to answer that?” 

“Dunno, I just feel like you’d have a better grip on yourself than this.”

“Maybe it’s the alcohol.” 

“Maybe,” Sougo says, another sarcastic eyebrow raise following the word. “Or maybe it’s something else.” 

“What are you playing at, bastard? I have better things to do than decode your stupid antics.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing really.― He’s coming back, Hijikata-san.” 

Sure enough, Gintoki is making his way back over to the table, four drinks in his hands. He’s got a suave, confident step to him, something that didn’t sit right with his carefree attitude. This perm is a mystery, from his looks to body language to his attitude, none of his pieces aligned but still fit together perfectly, a feat Hijikata couldn’t unravel to save his life.

“I brought some refills if you guys wanted any.” He says, placing the glasses down on the table. 

The group talks a while longer, all drinking with casual conversation. He learned that Gintoki once had a job as a bartender and that he took care of two younger kids, one of which was the brother of the bartender that Kondo was so infatuated with, who he learned was named Otae. 

The drinks go by, one hour turns into two, then two and a half. They switch bars a few times, the lovely Shinjuku weather only raining on them once they’re switching to the next establishment. He’s getting close to drunk because jogging through the rain without hitting anyone or anything is hard; but at least he’s not Kondo, who is already well passed out. Sougo is calling their supervisor a cab while Gintoki waits under the hangover of an expensive apartment complex and Hijikata buys cigarettes from the convenience store next to it.

Once he walks out, Gintoki’s rolling up his wet sleeves, blazer thrown over his shoulder. Be it the alcohol or his own conscious thoughts, he wouldn’t deny that Gintoki looks damn good soaked by rain and bathed in the warm lighting of the streetlights. 

“Smoke?” He asks, a cigarette sticking out of the package for Gintoki to take if he wanted it. 

“Sure.”

“Sorry, I don’t smoke the high-quality brands.”

“That’s not a problem.” Gintoki chuckles, lighting it on Hijikata’s open mayonnaise lighter. “I don't smoke often so one cheap cigarette isn’t going to kill my upper-class bar that you all have seemed to set for me.” The perm says with a grin and barely any slur in his words. 

“Ah, that’s good.” Hijikata chuckles, the atmosphere between them pleasant. They’ve gotten along more as the night has progressed, a “birds of a feather” type of feeling. 

Soon enough, a taxi finally pulls over and then it’s time for Hijikata to say goodbye to an unlikely friend. It takes all three of them to get the deadweight that was Kondo into the taxi, and Hijikata goes to sit down next to him. But before he can, Sougo is in his place. 

“Hijikata-san, you go along.” He shoos Hijikata away with his hand, getting ready to pull the taxi door closed. “I’ll take the gorilla home.”

“Huh-? Why?” 

“Because.” And with that, the door is slammed in his face, and the taxi is off before his alcohol-induced mind could catch up with what just happened. 

“Well,” Gintoki says, the sprinkling droplets wetting his unruly perm. He runs a hand through his hair, the water catching in the crooks of his fingers. “That’s something.”

“What now?”

“I mean, I’m not nearly as wasted as I wanted to be tonight and I have plenty to drink at my apartment, if you’re comfortable with that.” Gintoki says, gentle with his words. He knows he doesn’t want to make Hijikata think that he’s out to get him, being that he was the vice-commander of the Shinsengumi. Fortunately, Hijikata has a good bit of trust in the moment both in his self-defense and the man in front of him, and soon enough, they’re nearing his apartment.

There’s a level of tension between them, and through Hijikata’s drunken mental haze he can’t pin where it’s coming from. It’s not a negative tension, but something different albeit not unwelcome. It’s a feeling he hasn’t had in a while, and for a man like Hijikata, he hates when he doesn’t have a full grasp on himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have drank so much. 

However, he’s not going to stop now and Gintoki leads them up his apartment’s stairs, punching the password into the closest door to the left. The rain is just beginning to worsen, and a crack of lightning illuminates Gintoki’s damp face through the darkness as he invites Hijikata into his apartment. 

It’s not some huge, fancy place, no bigger or smaller than his own and it’s well kept, something Hijikata is grateful for; he hates a slob. The perm excuses himself and disappears into a room, reemerging later with two dry shirts and a pair of pants for him to change into. Hijikata takes the faded blue one and the sweats, and Gintoki directs him to the bathroom, telling him to throw out his wet clothes so he could put them in the dryer. 

When Hijikata finishes he flicks the bathroom light off, opening the door to the living room, where Gintoki was changing his shirt. Out of respect, Hijikata averts his eyes, but not before seeing the assortment of scars across the perm’s back. 

“Oh, you’re out. You can take a shower if you want, I don’t mind― just don’t get sick.” There’s an airy chuckle behind his words, and Hijikata is a little slow catching it, for one reason or another.

“It’s fine, even if I do it won’t do much to me.” He slightly slurs, walking over to the kitchen counter and placing his folded wet clothes on the edge for Gintoki to get later. 

“Fair enough, what do you want to drink?” 

“Anything’s fine with me.”

“Cheap beer?”

“Sounds great.”

“Want something to eat with it?” 

“Maybe later.” Hijikata says, taking the can that Gintoki holds out to him and enjoying the fizz of the pressure being released with the tab. They make their way to the couch, the time nearing one in the morning, and Gintoki turns on some true-crime show for the background noise. 

“What are your scars from?” Hijikata says, pulling the question from the blue. “―If you don't mind me asking…”

“Ah, no it’s not a problem. I didn’t think you saw them.” He laughs, hand lifting up his shirt, pinky tracing one of the deeper healed gashes. “I was a rowdy teen, let’s just say that.” 

“Lots of hospital visits?”

“No hospital visits. That’s why I kept fighting, no bills hanging over my head.” He laughs again, a lightness to what would usually be a sensitive topic, eyes fixed somewhere in the distance behind him. Hijikata takes another sip of his drink, tossing his pack of slightly wet cigarettes onto the table. 

The rain is picking up, thunder and lightning cracking overhead. Their phones get an alert simultaneously, a blaring loud alarm followed by a warning for flash flooding in the area till early in the morning. “Well, looks like I’m going to be walking home tonight.” 

“No way are you walking home in this weather.” Gintoki says, motioning down towards the couch. “This pulls out, you can sleep here, or take my bed; I don’t really care. Whichever is more comfortable for you.” 

Hijikata nods, thanking him, finishing his can. Gintoki gets up to get himself and Hijikata another from the fridge, his own sweats hanging lowly around his hips. Hijikata feels bad, being the guest he is, and follows Gintoki to the kitchen to throw away the empty can. 

“Do you recycle?”

“Always. The bin’s right over there.” 

Hijikata does as he’s told, saving the world one can at a time. Gintoki is at the counter, hands reaching up into the cabinet, shirt exposing his scared belly. You see, Hijikata has several things he finds attractive and it’s precisely one of those _things_ accompanied with a good bit of alcohol that causes his thumb to reach out and trace a scar just above the perm’s waistline. Gintoki freezes, body stopped from whatever action was taking place the moment prior, and he slowing brings one hand down to run through his hair. There’s a sigh, too, somewhere in there, but Hijikata’s also too frozen to pay attention. 

“What’s your angle, _taicho?”_ Gintoki grumbles, voice low and rough. There’s a bite in his title― sharp, stinging bite.

Hijikata retrieves his hand back to him, holding it carefully by his chest like a puppy with its tail between its legs. “I- I didn’t mean to…”

“Things can be taken the wrong way when you’re not careful, Hijikata-san.”

Hijikata, against his better will and judgment, lets the liquid confidence start talking for him. Any sane man would have backed down, apologized, and maybe sat a foot further away than previously but not him, not tonight. No, Hijikata looks Gintoki directly in the eyes, the TV casting a ghastly glow onto his pale cheeks and says, “What if I want it to be taken the wrong way?” 

There’s a moment that passes between them, the air thick, weighted with the colorless voice of the narrator from the television and the constant downpour of heavy rain. Gintoki’s eyes don’t stray from his own and he stares resolutely back; Gintoki is looking for a falter in conviction, looking for Hijikata to take his words back with his body language, but tonight the vice-commander is more stubborn than rational. His hand is gripping the overhang of the counter like his life depended on it, his knuckles turning white and his hands shaking from the atmosphere building around them. 

There’s a hand that roams up the bottom of his shirt, fingertips lightly tracing skin. “Then I’d ask you if you’re sure about what you’re getting into.” 

Hijikata gulps, promptly nodding. His breathing is rigid, toes curling in his socks, the tile beneath his feet threatening to open up and swallow him whole. It’s been long since he did something this _stupid,_ but it feels too liberating for him to stop. The perm closes the cabinet door above them, that hand reaching down to grab Hijikata’s hip; there’s a breath that gets caught in the back of his throat but it’s quickly forgotten once Gintoki’s mouth is on his in the mix of an indelicate kiss. 

There’s the taste of cheap beer on their tongues, both of them fighting for control over the other. Hijikata lets go of the counter, fingernails digging into the perm’s lower back. Gintoki’s a good kisser, and judging by the faultlessness of his movements, he’s going to be exactly what Hijikata needs tonight to let go and forget many moons of mounted tension.

He’s already being swept away, moans getting caught in his mouth simply from the rough grip Gintoki has on his hips, while his other hand scratches gently on his stomach. There’s no more thinking, only acting― so when his partner starts pushing them backward towards the couch, he compliantly follows. Hijikata’s back hits the cushions first, Gintoki’s legs instinctively pushing his own apart, never breaking their mouths. A hand disappears from around Hijikata’s waist and there’s some fumbling on the coffee table for something, then the TV mutes and the air around them becomes static. 

Before he knows it, his shirt is being tugged up and off his head, thrown off to the side, immediately forgotten. The drawstring on his pants is next to be pulled, and when Gintoki accidentally ties it further into a knot he groans out of a combination of need and frustration. Their kiss breaks, Hijikata’s breathing heavy and the perm disappears from the couch somewhere deeper into the apartment. Thankfully, he has enough brain power left in him to work on untying the drawstring, and once that’s loose he slips off his socks. 

Gintoki returns a moment later, a couple of condoms and a bottle of lube tossed onto the table. He removes his own shirt and makes sure his already too loose pants were undone properly this time. Back between the vice-commander’s legs, he bites at Hijikata’s bottom lip, pulling his cock out and wrapping a rough hand around it. Whatever was left of restraint and sanity goes flying out the window, because the noise that he makes is obscene and he knows Gintoki is eating it up― the low, throaty chuckle that the perm makes going straight to the heat building in his gut. 

It’s wrong, it’s so _wrong,_ but the way he feels like he’s just floating his way through this encounter is the devil on his shoulder, calling him deeper, further into a night of promiscuity. He hasn’t fucked in at least a year, let alone ever had someone this good; so he arches his back a little higher, grips tuffs of silver hair a little rougher, and lets himself be carried away. 

Gintoki kisses his way down Hijikata’s stomach, leaving a bite mark every now and then and before he knows it, a skilled mouth is replacing an equally skilled hand. It’s this sudden change of temperature that makes him tremble the most, eyes rolling back in fervor, broken words falling incoherent through his lips. Gintoki smiles around his length, lust silent yet just as prevalent as with the man before him. It’s taking all of his willpower not to flip Hijikata over and have his way with him, and Hijikata is fully aware of that. Gintoki’s eyes speak for themselves, half-lidded, darkened at the meal before him. The vice-commander is in no way a weak man, but in this moment he feels hunted― a prey at the vicious, unyielding hands of a predator. 

It’s this realization that threatens to push him over the edge, and the mouth around his cock must know too, because it’s the way that his tongue curls before taking all of Hijikata in, blinding him before he could warn the other he was near. Gintoki doesn’t seem to mind it however, lips coming off of Hijikata’s dick with a wet _pop,_ swallowing. His pants are tugged the rest of the way off, and he orders Hijikata to flip around and to get on his knees. 

Once more, he obediently does as he’s told, the lid of the lube being flipped open before Gintoki douses his fingers in the clear liquid. A finger teases his entrance as he places the bottle to the side and he lowly mutters _“relax”,_ hand wrapping back around Hijikata’s cock to help take his mind off of the situation. Slowly, he pushes a digit in, letting Hijikata get used to its feel. Soon enough, he’s got three fingers in and by command of his restless bottom, that’s all he needs. 

After sliding on one of the condoms, Gintoki lathers a good bit of lube on his own length, making sure to take care of the vice-commander the best he could. “Ready?” 

_“Mmmf,_ get on with it already― I’m not som _-!”_ The perm doesn’t wait to hear the rest of the sentence to respond, because he pushes in carefully, filling up the officer before him. He traces the outline of Hijikata’s shoulder blade with his thumb, scratching skin as he drug his nail down his back. 

There’s another sexy, deep chuckle that makes Hijikata want to come then and there and the perm whispers, hand reaching back up to pull Hijikata’s head back with his hair. _“Fuck―_ someone’s greedy...” He draws his hips back slowly, snapping forward once he knows Hijikata can take it. More incoherent mess falls from Hijikata’s lips, most words falling short and turning into a drawn out moan. 

Gintoki picks his pace, somewhere in between fast and not fast enough, and it throws Hijikata’s mind through a loop of wanting more, more, _more_. He’s loud, he knows he’s loud because there are two fingers that get shoved in his mouth, to which Hijikata bites just shy of drawing blood. Everything is moving too quick, the room spinning with intoxication from both alcohol and euphoria. Somehow, he manages to mutter out the word _harder,_ his partner happily complying, flipping Hijikata over onto his back and lifting him up off of the couch. 

He’s sweating like a pig, they both are, and in the jumbled mess of his mind he finds it impressive that Gintoki is able to hold him up as easily as he is. He wraps his arms around Gintoki’s neck, pulling him down so he could kiss him once more, their teeth hitting together with each thrust but neither one of them seemed to mind. 

Hijikata’s going crazy, between the mouth attacking his own to the dick ravaging his prostate, he knows he doesn’t have a lot of time left― especially because he’s not had sex this good in his life, let alone any sex at all in forever. His nails dig into Gintoki’s neck, and when he feels the perm pull away from him, he opens his eyes to see the titillating scene of Gintoki grinning, bottom lip bitten between his teeth. He catches his gaze, deep red eyes staring unmoving into blue, that smile threatening to push Hijikata off the edge again. He’s in something dangerous; that look that Gintoki is giving him, a sadistic and utterly sinful look that’s enjoying the show spread out in front of him. 

Almost as if he knew Hijikata was seeing too much, he bucks his hips in just the right way― Hijikata arching his back entirely of the sofa, clawing down the shoulders of the man on top of him. His vision is engulfed by stars, his body out of his control as he writhes under Gintoki’s touch. It’s the best type of agonizing, his mind floating on air yet his muscles weighed down from oversensitivity. Gintoki groans as Hijikata cums, the jolting around his own cock too much for him to take any more of. 

He must have passed out because the next time he opens his eyes he’s got a warm wet cloth cleaning him up, and Gintoki’s pants are properly tied around his waist. 

“Go back to sleep, you deserve it.” He laughs, folding the cloth to a clean side before wiping the officer’s stomach. Hijikata just groans in reply, still caught in his high. He lets his eyes close, enjoying the feeling of the rag across his sensitive skin, his breathing finally evening out. Gintoki whispers something else to him, but Hijikata’s far too gone to hear it. 

Somewhere in the mix of his consciousness and sleep, he feels himself be picked up and laid back down on something softer, a feat that would usually render an alarm in his head if he didn’t have an odd amount of trust for the man performing it. So for tonight only, he lets himself be cared for, falling easily asleep to the smell of an unfamiliar bed.


	2. Don't Interpret the Saying "Take Life by the Balls" Too Literally.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you spell Hijikata backward it spells awkward, which isn't true but kind of. Gintoki is hooked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long awaited. 
> 
> I got my shit together guys and this was part of it. enjoy.

Hijikata wakes up, the smell of food creeping in through the crack under the door. The ceiling is unfamiliar, the room bare with only a single bed, nightstand, and bookshelf. There are not any pictures on the wall and the closet is adjacent to the bed, the door closed. The only thing out on the nightstand is a book, a thriller by a lesser-known author who he loved to read, Matsumora Shizue. 

He still doesn’t know where he’s at, his splitting hangover telling him exactly why he doesn’t remember. At a loss, he rolls over to get off the bed, a stinging pain shooting through his hips, resting in the bottom of his stomach. Looking down at the sheets pooling around his waist, he confirms his worst fears. He’s definitely naked.

_Fuck._

Oh fuck. 

He’s done it now. 

There are some folded clothes down at the end of the bed and he throws the loose shirt on, carefully maneuvering his sore legs into the sweatpants. Everything in his lower body hurts, pleading for him to stay in bed while his stomach argued back, grumbling for whatever delicious food was being cooked outside. 

Slowly, he opens the door, everything flooding back to him all at once. The bar, the rain, the couch― _Gintoki._ The perm looks over to him grinning, hands still tossing around scrambled eggs in the pan. “Good morning sleeping beauty.”

Hijikata rolls his eyes, walking across the living room to lean against the counter. “My ass hurts.” 

“It does that sometimes, especially when you haven’t had any dick in a while.” Gintoki says nonchalantly, taking out two plates and dividing the eggs. “But nevermind that, here’s food.” He turns off the oven, reaching over to grab the toast out of the toaster when it pops out. After he butters the pieces, the tub is thrown back into the almost empty fridge, spare for a few eggs, cheap beer, and some water bottles. “There. I’ll take whatever you don’t want.” Hijikata takes two of the four slices, placing them next to his eggs. Gintoki points him to the rice, which he takes a couple of scoops from as well. 

They sit down in the living room and Hijikata… doesn’t know why he’s still here. After all, he had responsibilities and- “Oh my god!” The officer turns, panic immediately flooding over him, trying to find the time. “I have work!” 

“No, you don’t.” Gintoki says, eyes not straying from the weather forecaster on the screen. 

“Huh?! What do you mean?” 

“Your friend called, said that he’d tell Kondo that you were taking a day off.” 

“What friend?!”

“Soichiro-kun. The tan haired kid I met before you and Kondo.” 

Hijikata groans, immediately wanting to gouge his eyes out. Of course Sougo would be the first one to find out about this, Sougo had his damn hands in everything. The atmosphere of the room was… awkward, to say the least. Here he was, eating breakfast on the same couch he was getting fucked into last night by a man he’d only known for a few hours, if that. _This_ is exactly why he never went drinking, especially with Sougo. Hell, the brat probably planned this from the start, all of his worst ideas come into play when he does something nice to Hijikata for once. 

They’ve got the news on, Gintoki’s leg propped up onto the table holding his plate as he watched. His shirt is off, giving Hijikata more broken drunk flashbacks from the night before. 

Gintoki wasn’t bad.

He actually was really, really good, but Hijikata would never admit to that little sentence. 

He just… _wasn’t bad._

In fact, he could already feel the difference in his body, how much he needed their little experience last night. His shoulders weren’t _as_ pinched as they were previously, his brows not _as_ furrowed, and he got the best sleep he’s had in a while. To top it off, Gintoki wasn’t the type of lay that would try to cuddle with you after like you were an item, which Hijikata was beyond grateful for. He just took care of Hijikata, as any good top would, and left him alone. 

He was, all in all, exactly what Hijikata had needed, just like he’d thought the night before. 

Suddenly, Gintoki’s phone begins to ring, and with a grimace, the perm picks it up, interrupted from his eggs. 

“Hello? This is Sakata Gintoki, yes.” He pauses, listening to whoever was on the other side of the line. “Yes, I’m free tonight, you pick the time and place.” Gintoki grins, chuckling lowly just like the night before at whatever the person on the phone had said. “Yes, so eleven at Keio Plaza by the government building? I’ll be there. The usual?” He pauses again, “Alrighty, thank you Yoshimura-san.” Just like that, the quick call was over, Gintoki dropping his phone next to him and resuming his breakfast. 

Hijikata doesn’t want to pry, but for an entrepreneur’s phone call that sounded… wrong. He’s not gonna say anything about it, though, and he finishes his food not too long after, getting up and placing his plate in the sink.

“Do you have my uniform?” Hijikata asks, mindlessly stretching his arms so he didn’t look like he was out of place, which was exactly how he felt.

Gintoki nods, placing his food to the side and getting up to open the laundry room, where Hijikata’s clothes were hanging. “I didn’t wash them because I didn’t want to do it wrong and mess it up, so I simply hung them up. They smell like rain and faintly booze, but that’s better than Gin-san having to pay for accidentally ruining them.” The perm laughs, handing Hijikata the two hangers. 

“T-thanks.” He says and excuses himself into the bathroom to change. It’s awkward. So awkward, but he thinks it’s just him being weird and Gintoki doesn’t actually care. To be fair, he doesn’t think the man cares about much of anything with how he carries himself, it’s a wonder he got to be how he is in… whatever he does. 

Truthfully, he knows little about Gintoki beyond his name and some very vague details that couldn’t even be close to considered facts. The man is treading carefully around Hijikata and knows that, but he can’t exactly start asking questions because he’s not in the right to. Not that he has to even see Gintoki again anyways, this one night stand could be exactly that and nothing more. That would be nice, that way he didn’t have any ghosts following him around. 

Gintoki was a good lay, who, for the night, was great. 

No, _not bad._

There. That was all. 

Tucking in his shirt and slipping on his jacket, he opens up the door to the living room, mentally preparing himself for the dreaded _‘goodbye’_ conversation. 

“Thanks for the food.” He begins, trying not to make this more awkward than it already was going to be. “And the clothes.” 

Gintoki glances his way, licking the lone piece of rice off the side of his lip. “Yeah, no problem.”

“I... uh, I’m going now.” 

“Alright.” 

Hijikata stiffly makes his way to the door, calling out goodbye to which Gintoki only responds to with a hum, because he’s once more got his mouth stuffed with food. However, to make things worse, Gintoki must have knocked some of his brain cells out of his head last night because Hijikata can’t get the door open to save his life. There are three locks, two of which he manages to open just fine but the last one won’t budge. After what seems like an eternity of rattling the doorknob, Hijikata, wanting nothing more than to just break down the damn thing, finally bites the bullet and calls for Gintoki to help. 

The perm smoothly gets up, plate of food still in hand, and simply unbolts the knob’s lock and opens the door. Hijikata’s face heats up more than it should, because the last thing he wants to do is make a fool out of himself in front of Gintoki, of all people. 

The perm grins at his discomfort, extending a hand out towards the exit. “Goodbye, Hijikata-kun.”

“B-bye.” 

“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other very soon.” Gintoki says lowly but Hijikata ignores him, already halfway down the hall. No way is he embarrassing himself further. Thankfully, through his sobriety and the daylight, he can make out the area which isn’t too far a walk from his own home. He practically runs there, with how fast his legs are carrying him. See each other soon? _Fuck no,_ he curses under his breath, _only in hell, bastard!_

\- 

Once home, Hijikata throws his uniform into the wash and grabs out his clean one, calling Kondo and letting him know that he was in fact coming in for work today, and to add him to a shift somewhere. There was no chance he was going to sit at home, pondering over his poor life choices till the next workday. Besides, he had a certain tan haired sadist to cuss out and that couldn’t possibly wait. 

Kondo, very reluctantly, agrees and Hijikata arrives to work only a couple hours late, receiving confused side glances from his subordinates. He forgot to comb his hair. Running his fingers quickly through the mess, he sees Yamazaki at his desk and practically yells for him to find Sougo, who, like normal, wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Yamazaki shoots up from his chair, words scrambling together eventually to make a _“yes sir”_ before he bolts off. God, he needs a cigarette. 

Hijikata plops down at his own desk in his office, Kondo knocking gently at his door once he knew Hijikata was there. “Toshi?” He calls out, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine.” 

Kondo gently shuts the door behind him, sitting down at one of the two chairs he had in front of his desk. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m perfectly fine, long day is all.” _And night,_ Hijikata thinks, but would be caught dead before he’d ever say it. 

“I thought it was weird for Sougo to call in for you, though I didn’t say anything because you never take any breaks. I thought the day off would be good.” Kondo admits, almost stumbling over his words. He’d have to take an actual break soon, not because he needed one but for Kondo’s sake; he’s worried he’s gonna run his friend into the ground with worry if it keeps on any further.

“Yeah, I understand why.” He pauses, twirling his pen mindlessly in his hand. “It’s just another one of Sougo’s devious plots, like always. Speaking of which, have you seen the bastard?”

Kondo looks over his shoulder and through the window at where Sougo’s desk was, finding it empty. “Ah, no. He must’ve stepped out.” 

_Typical,_ Hijikata whispers under his breath, accompanied by a fair share of choice words. Kondo gives Hijikata another worried look and he already knows what words are going to come before his superior says them. More about how Hijikata doesn’t take care of himself, how he’s overworking, it’s unhealthy, so on and so forth. He’s heard the lecture ten million times.

“Listen, Toshi, I’m really glad you went out with us last night.” Kondo pauses, and Hijikata’s eyebrow catches up in his slight surprise. “Although I can’t remember much,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his head shyly, “I’m glad you took the time to let loose a little.” 

“Ah, you’re welcome Kondo-san, I promised you and I wasn’t about to go back on it.” 

Hijikata wishes he’d gone back on it. 

Kondo grins, getting up and straightening his uniform jacket out. “Well then, back to work! Don’t kill Sougo over whatever he did this time!” 

“Can’t make any promises.” He says and actually means it. There was a rage burning inside of him that wasn’t going to be quelled by anything other than blood, specifically that of the tan haired sadist’s. He wants to know what _exactly_ Gintoki and him had talked about before Kondo and Hijikata had arrived, what they had plotted. 

Or... does he?

The more questions he asks the more Sougo is going to think that what happened between them last night was something he wanted to happen again. Sougo’s gonna spread it all around the station and that is something Hijikata definitely didn’t want to happen. 

By the time that Yamazaki finally gets his hands on Sougo, Hijikata had thrown himself through a loop. He was too tired, too stressed, and his ass still hurt like a bitch, so the moment Sougo gets into his office he sat him down, looks him in the eyes, and then tells him to leave. Of course, realizing he had won, Sougo grins and gets up, Hijikata knowing good and well this won’t be the last time he hears about it.

\- 

Gintoki slips on his dress shoes, and just like any other night, unbuttons his white shirt one too loose. He’s got on his high watered dark grey pants, the ones just a little too small for him in all the right places, and a pricier watch one of his clients had bought him a couple of years back.

 _“Dress nice for me,”_ the man had told him, so underneath the casual business attire he’s got on his lacey underwear, red so they stood out against his skin. Anything for the customer, of course. 

This regular had a thing for feminine looks, which wasn’t exactly what Gintoki usually specialized in given his build, but he guessed he had a certain charm that he didn’t know about, because the man would book him once every month as a _“vacation”―_ that’s what he would call it, and take him out to a fancy restaurant to eat, before ending the night with Gintoki’s face in the sheets. 

He was wealthy, so at least once a month Gintoki knew he’d be having a good meal in his stomach accompanied by some finely aged wine, which was the only alcohol his client drank. Perks of the job. The gifts were nice too, of course, which usually came later in client relationships; after all, he wasn’t a sugar baby― sometimes people just liked to thank him extra for being their little escape, their dirty secret. He knew he was too, married men and women alike, something for them to retreat to when they needed to sin. However, he didn’t ask questions, never _really_ knew who was who, because the ones with money and power behind their names didn’t let something slip that could jeopardize that money and power, and Gintoki was just fine with that. The second someone expensive’s well being was threatened was when his well being was threatened, so he never pryed, it kept him safe. 

His quiet mouth was good for sharing too because many wealthy people liked to “gift” their friends and as long as Gintoki got his money, he was perfectly fine with _getting to know_ people.

Before he leaves the house, he slicks back his hair, making it look more kept up with than the unruly perm usually did. As long as everything else on him looked expensive and well put together, he could get away with his messy perm just fine. 

He locks his apartment behind him, the hotel’s route familiar. They’ll meet there, decide where to eat and then leave only to return a couple of hours later; except never at the same time, in case the right tabloid happened to be watching. He plays his games sparingly, not getting to know too many “common” people, in case someone recognized someone and blew up both his and his client's facade. 

To be honest, he doesn’t know why he accepted the invitation to the bar last night, nor does he know what drew him to invite Hijikata to his apartment. He wanted to have a couple of drinks with Zura, Takasugi, and Sakamoto but when the assholes can’t get anywhere on time, he had to entertain himself somehow. 

Sougo was the one to approach him, taking the open seat next to him and immediately beginning with his proposal, not bothering to say hello. Gintoki hadn’t even spoken a word to him, hell, hadn’t even looked in his direction before the kid already knew what he did. 

_“I’ll give you ten thousand if you just stay here with me and a couple of my co-workers tonight. Not saying you have to do anything, just play some games with me on the one with the bad temper. Free drinks.”_

Of course he’s gonna take that, ten thousand yen just to sit and throw some cops through a loop? He’d do that for free if you caught him on a good enough day. Besides, it was clear the tan-haired kid had no ill-intentions with him, because giving money to a prostitute for any service no matter how innocent would still be frowned upon. So Gintoki took the bill and ordered himself a drink, immediately beginning to plot what exactly he’d be doing. 

_Entrepreneur,_ something he’d described himself as before, to help cover up the fancy clothes. Hijikata apparently didn’t like people who flaunted wealth, so dismiss the blazer immediately, he’d been told. Leave a lot out of your personality, let there be too many holes that he can’t piece together a person but enough details in little areas to pique interest. So Gintoki did exactly that: asking too personal of questions and not returning the sentiment with his own answers, dropping weighty sentences that Sougo would help him cover up, leading the vice-commander on. He quickly realized that when he and Sougo paired up, hell was to be raised. They were too similar and their personalities linked in all the worst ways, if your name happened to be Hijikata, that is. 

But something changed as the night went on.

He’s not saying he began to get soft, but he kind of got soft. It started at the first bar and like any new person you meet, their story is not laid out before you on a silver platter, Hijikata being no different. Gintoki could tell the man was more than just another hot-headed cop, that there was something long in the making plaguing him.

 _“Do you have someone special?”_ Gintoki had asked, going off of the imaginary script he and Sougo had made. He watched the way Hijikata answered, the hurt in his glare when he looked at Gintoki’s tan-haired counterpart. He also felt the way Sougo’s body tensed with the question, not wiping off the drop of condensation that ran down his arm from the glass he was holding. There was more between them than just a mostly innocent co-worker feud, so Gintoki quickly stopped with that line of questioning. 

Hijikata’s interesting, and maybe it’s because Gintoki is so used to people coming to him that he enjoys the change of pace. He’s not letting Gintoki in, not telling him about his favorite dead cat or boasting about his job’s position. In fact, he’s hardly talking at all but the times when he does, he picks apart Gintoki’s facade almost effortlessly. Everything that the perm had worked to keep tightly together, Hijikata’s finding the loose ends to and yanking on them. He’s actually quite impressed, if it weren’t for Sougo coming in and covering him back up, he’s not sure how long he would’ve been able to last having a one-on-one conversation with the vice-commander. 

It might just be his imagination, but he thinks he’s got Hijikata interested in him too. Gintoki doesn’t know why, only that it’s not his mind playing tricks on him when he leaves to talk to Zura, Sakamoto, and Takasugi when they finally get to the bar, blue eyes following him as he left. So when he gets back, he’s sure to drop some more personal details on his life, making friendly conversation with fewer and fewer loopholes in his speech. 

He’s not gonna lie, he’s a little upset when Sougo offered that they change bars, expecting his time with the vice-commander to be cut short. After all, Hijikata had spent the entire night practically wishing himself gone, watching the people walk around freely outside like an animal trapped in a cage. Gintoki’s not gonna say he has a type, but he’s definitely got a _thing―_ that’s what he’ll call it, for bringing people out of their shell, seeing the real parts of them. Distantly, he wonders what Hijikata’s like. Is he sweet, nice, or does he act the same? Does he giggle when he finds something funny? Does he have any weird hobbies that he doesn’t tell anyone about? 

Okay, so he’s in a little deep. 

It’s not helping either that Gintoki’s finding it harder and harder to pry, which is kind of his favorite thing to do (outside of work relationships, of course.) Just this morning, he’d let Hijikata go without giving him his number or one of his business cards that only held his contact information. For the first time in a while, Gintoki was stumped. Seeking refuge in his finely made eggs, he’s finally grateful that his stupid door won’t open. 

Going back to his original point, he’s thoroughly surprised when Hijikata follows after them to the next bar, ordering a drink when he got there. Maybe he did know how to have fun after all? Gintoki would just have to wait and see, and eventually, he does. Maybe he's not the equivalent of a kid in a bounce house but eventually, he does notice that Hijikata’s posture begins to loosen up and he might have just _smiled_. By this time, Gintoki’s mostly given up on playing games with the vice-commander per Sougo’s request, and if that means that he gives back his ten thousand yen and pays for all of his tab then so be it, because he’s a little too focused on decoding the intricate workings of Hijikata Toshiro. 

By the third bar, Kondo’s laughing the loudest because he’s also the drunkest, which in turn makes for some interesting Hijikata moments. For instance, there’s this one time where Kondo flings his arms back, almost knocking Hijikata in the head. Hijikata ducks, spilling a bit of his drink in the process. Kondo gets a griping but he knows he sees a faint smile on the vice-commanders lips after it’s done because Kondo doesn’t ever really take things to heart. 

But god, when the commander finally knocks out on the side of the street he swears he panics. Will he ever see Hijikata again? How? _When?_ Sougo must see this too, because the kid winks at him before he hops in the back seat of the taxi. 

Gintoki doesn’t know how he does it.

Getting Hijikata to his apartment, that is. 

He knows his words are sketchy, not because of ill-intentions but because he’s _actually nervous,_ something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Somehow, Hijikata complies, raindrops dripping down on his nose from the longest tuff of his v-shaped bang. He doesn’t care if he’s sick the next morning, just this sight alone is worth it. _So he’s in a little deep._

Honestly, he doesn’t want anything more than what they had at the bar. What the night turns into was not his plan, but how was he supposed to act when a gentle finger traces a scar just above his waistline? _“What if I want it to be taken the wrong way?”_ Are you kidding? Forget the rich and powerful, Gintoki‘s got a new _thing,_ and that _thing_ smells like tobacco and sandalwood cologne. Long story short, he’s a goner. 

With lips tasting like nicotine and alcohol, the bed is too far away of an option, the tv too drowning of his noises, the claps of thunder too distracting from their dance. At this moment, Gintoki feels like he knows something few others do about the vice-commander and he relishes in it more so than he should, savoring every moment right until he closes the door to his room, Hijikata sleeping quietly inside. 

God, he’s so fucked. 

Finally arriving at the hotel, his client is waiting in the lobby, leg crossed over the other while he idly scrolls through news on his phone. Gintoki sits down in the chair next to him, the man’s face immediately picking up with a smile and he shakes Gintoki’s hand like any other business partner because really, that’s all he was. 

The client makes a casual remark that he looks great as always, and Gintoki replies with how he’ll look even better later. 

Back to work, as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this won't take another three months for me to update, I just was stumped. But now we're unstumped. Hoorah. 
> 
> I'm very tired. 
> 
> I'm gonna go get some sleeps now, because I can't seem to upload my stories before midnight. have a great day guys, for real. you better. go out there and really just live it up. you got this. come yell in my dm's about anything good or bad because honestly, I'm lonely and like people yelling in my dm's. 
> 
> tumblr: gintokiu


	3. The Business Card Isn't the Only Thing Becoming Soft at the Edges.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hijikata has a not-problem problem and can you tell I like writing Gintoki dressed up nice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oop it's a little short but it's here teeheehee
> 
> enjoy <3

Hijikata would describe himself as a focused man. Hardly distracted, versatile and adaptive, and very committed to his work. 

Except he’s got a problem. 

This problem can be described in many different ways: silver haired, confusing, and really, if you looked hard enough, not even a problem at all. Which is exactly why it’s bad that Hijikata is making him a problem. It’s distracting, this problem, and he wished he could stop thinking about it. 

Except the very thing that’s laying in between himself and this problem is a certain sadist and that only increases the not-problem problem to a very-big-problem. 

Long story short: it’s bothering him, that bar conversation. He doesn’t know what Sougo and Gintoki were talking about before he showed up and he really can’t ask because then Sougo is going to take it the wrong way, which he thinks he definitely doesn’t want. _He thinks._

See, he’s been doing a lot of thinking recently and he’s not talking about a nicotine-cleansed headspace, he’s talking about a relaxed body headspace. It’s been almost a week and he’s not going to admit it, but last Friday's events were… helpful. Not the drinking part, either. He can drink himself into a stupor at any time he pleased all by himself, however… _that―_ he could not do alone. 

He’s not saying that he wants to see Gintoki again because he definitely, definitely doesn’t but he could at least, oh, drop by to say thank you for breakfast or for clothing him. Right? It was the least he could do, _right?_ Then he never wants to see him again. No. Never.

 

Okay, so he might be lying to himself. He really just doesn’t want to go through Sougo to get any information because that no-good brat would find some way to make him regret it, he always did. He wants to talk to Gintoki about the bar and he wants to know what exactly lead them to get into the situation they did because he knows it must have been the alcohol, there was no way it wasn’t, though he can’t quite remember how everything went down. 

He’s definitely not asking about that though.

Hijikata slumps back in his chair, crossing his arms over his head and staring up at the ceiling for answers. He could go to Gintoki’s apartment easily. He knows exactly where it is, what floor, and where it’s located. That’s not a problem. It’s how he starts the conversation without making himself out to be a fool that is the issue, because he sure as hell isn’t going to go through Sougo to get Gintoki’s number to text him that he was coming over. He’d be caught dead before he ever talked to Sougo about Gintoki again, that scheming sadist would know immediately everything Hijikata was thinking before he even opened his mouth. 

In a god-sent spur of confidence, Hijikata decides to go to Gintoki’s apartment tomorrow, Friday, right after he gets off work. He’ll probably bring Gintoki some food or something, because aside from pricey clothes he doesn’t know much else what the man likes. Also because it would be weird for him to show up to an acquaintance’s house uninvited baring an expensive shirt to thank them for fucking you into the sofa. 

-

When Hijikata leaves work later the next day, Sougo watches him go, his unknowing but seemingly all-seeing eyes baring right into Hijikata’s bones. Sougo doesn’t know, _he thinks he doesn’t know,_ but it’s the presence of that uncertainty that makes him so anxious. Maybe the sadist just smells how slightly nervous he is, like how a shark smells blood in the water. 

Hijikata doesn’t pay it any mind, deciding that Sougo would figure out what he wanted to figure out anyway, and walks out of the department’s building. The trek home isn’t very far, meaning that to get to Gintoki’s isn’t much farther, but first, he has to stop by the nearest convenience store to pick up his… thank you(?) gift, a feat easier said than done. 

Glancing around at the aisles, he’s at a loss of what to get him. How does one even begin to shop for someone like Gintoki in the situation that they were in? Not only that, but he knows close to nothing about him and his interests, and he cycles between getting him a bottle of sake or a carton of eggs. Deciding one would be too promiscuous, Hijikata checks out his eggs and heads back on his way. 

The sun is setting, casting a light orange glow across the sheen of the street and the tops of passing cars. It’s the time of evening that is transitioning into night and he hopes that he catches Gintoki before he leaves for any plans should he have any, because Hijikata doesn’t know if he can bring himself to do this again any other day. 

The walkways of the street are becoming clustered with people, businessmen leaving work to go drink with their coworkers, the heart of Kabukicho slowly beginning to beat for the impending night. There are not yet women out with short dresses and pinned-up hair, nor are there fumbling drunks nestled in the entrances of alleys, it’s the closest thing that this town will see to peaceful tonight as the moon begins to further rise.

It’s not much farther to Gintoki’s apartment and when he sees it in the distance his stomach begins to do that little nervous tossing. Quickly, he tells it to shut up and continues on his track, having already come too far to turn around now― no matter how imposing the silent brick building was. 

The steps up are creaky under his feet and he wishes he could tell them to shut up too, because the way his anxiety is bouncing from wall-to-wall inside him is making him grit his teeth more than he should. The third floor is far but not far enough and distantly, he wonders if it’s too late for him to take back that spur of confidence from yesterday. He thinks on that idea a lot, as much as a person can as their feet take them up three flights of stairs, and too soon his thoughts are cut short as the final step in front of Gintoki’s door is taken. 

The realization of the space dawns on Hijikata, and he decides that he should probably just knock before someone comes out and sees him having an existential crisis. He brings his knuckles up to the door, drawing them back, and bringing them forward to make a contact with the door that never happens. 

The door is open now, a new revelation that takes him more than a moment to process, Gintoki standing on the other side of the frame looking just as surprised to see Hijikata as Hijikata was surprised to see him. 

“Oh,” Is all that the perm says, and Hijikata wonders if he’ll die if he sprints for the edge of the balcony and jumps. 

His mind panics, everything that he had built himself up for all crashing down on him at once. “I… I have eggs.” _Oh no._

“Yeah, I can see that.” Gintoki says, eyebrows raising slightly as he smiled at the sight in front of him, an amused huff of air blown from his nose. “Why?”

 _Think, Toshiro, think and calm down._ “Because you fed me.” 

“Oh, alrighty then. You didn’t have to, I’m sure you saw the state of my fridge,” Gintoki starts, accepting the carton from Hijikata’s hand and motioning for Hijikata to step into the apartment behind him. “I don’t eat here a lot.”

Hijikata doesn’t say anything, making sure the door didn’t close entirely behind him so he would still have a way to escape. The apartment is dark and still, the type of still that hangs lingeringly in the air with the dust, and the only light is coming from the streetlights outside. It’s in the dim lighting he watches Gintoki put away the eggs, the realization dawning on him how nice Gintoki is dressed. 

He’s got on a black button up-shirt, buttons starting just below the middle of his chest, the sleeves rolled back to the bend of his arm, light gray pin-striped pants, accompanied by a pair of black loafers. There’s a watch in there too, something he couldn’t remember Gintoki wearing the last time they had seen each other. It’s fancy, not _fancy,_ but definitely fancier than Kabukicho called for. 

“Oh, well,” Hijikata began, not really knowing where to go with the sentence but surely not wanting to get caught looking. “I thought I should anyway.”

There’s a chuckle as Gintoki turns around, closing the distance between himself and Hijikata and something else in Hijikata panics, unsure of what to do. The chuckle brings back memories too, but he _definitely_ wasn’t about to dwell on those. “Well, thank you, I would invite you to stay but I was just about to leave, as you saw.” 

Gintoki reaches down by Hijikata’s waist and he tenses, anticipating a touch that never comes. Instead, the door is opened, the perm holding out a hand in front of himself for Hijikata to step outside the apartment. He does as he’s instructed, brain so flustered he’s on auto-pilot. Gintoki steps out behind him, turning and beginning to lock the door. He stumbles with it for a moment, making the off-hand comment that _“it gives everyone trouble”_ with a wink, calling back to Hijikata’s own trouble with it and making his face heat with embarrassment. 

Once the door was locked, Gintoki pulls something out of his pocket, handing it to Hijikata. It’s a plain business card baring only Gintoki’s name and his number, white edges softened from rubbing against the fabric of his pin-striped pants. “Drinks tomorrow?” 

Hijikata opens his mouth to protest but Gintoki’s phone rings and before he can, the perm answers it quickly, starting down the hallway with a wave back to the officer. Like a whirlwind, Gintoki is gone just as quickly as he came. 

After an unknown amount of time, Hijikata’s feet carry him down the stairs and through the quickly filling up crowds, only stopping when he was in front of his own apartment door. He empties out his pockets on the counter, flopping face first on his carpeted living room floor, limbs spread out beside him. 

Fuck, he’s done it now.

-

“Zura, I’ve done it now.” 

His friend gives him a side glance from behind the rim of his glass, watching Gintoki rub the condensation from the drink on the table.

“What now?” Katsura says and Sakamoto joining them at the table, setting down the three cups of water he had left to get earlier. 

“I’ve got a police officer.”

“Huh? Like you’re going to court?” Katsura asks, confusion resting in the back of his voice, bringing the beer up to his mouth to drink again. 

“No, we’re fucking.” Gintoki says, eyes still focused on his condensation masterpiece. Katsura almost spits out his drink and Sakamoto bursts out laughing at either him or Gintoki’s confession, he’s not sure which. His long haired friend grabs a napkin like it was the one who had made the claim, dabbing it aggressively at the corners of his mouth. 

_“Gintoki!”_ Is all Katsura can manage, especially with Sakamoto still laughing as loud as he was.

“Which one?! The young looking one, the black haired one, or the brunette with the goatee?” Sakamoto asks, hitting Gintoki playfully on the shoulder. 

“The black haired one.” He says, taking a swig of his own drink.

“Does he know?! There’s no way―! Did you know?!” Katsura questions, face growing more flustered as he gripped the handle of the glass till his knuckles whitened. 

“He doesn’t know and he’s not paying either; and yes, I knew before.” Gintoki wipes his masterpiece off the table with the side of his fist, slumping back into his chair. “Okay, well we’ve only fucked once, but he showed up to my apartment as I was leaving earlier with a carton of eggs and I handed my business card to him and now we’re going for drinks tomorrow night, at least I think. Sakamoto called before he could give me an answer.” 

“You’re going to wind up in jail.” Katsura states matter-of-factly, Takasugi having just arrived and leaning on the table beside him. 

“Gintoki is going to jail?” He asks, adjusting his eyepatch before sliding Gintoki’s own beer from his hand and drinking from it. 

“That’s an overstatement, what police officer would try to put Gin-san behind bars knowing good and well they could end their own career trying to make an accusation?” 

“Kintoki’s got a point, Zura.” Sakamoto says with a quick bellowing laugh, nudging Gintoki on the arm. Checking the time, Gintoki slides off his chair, letting Takasugi sit where he had been. 

“Gotta go,” He states, making sure his shirt was tucked correctly. “See y’all later. Say hello to Ikumatsu for me, Zura.” Katsura grumbles something behind him as he turns to leave but it doesn’t bother him enough to turn around and find out what was said; Katsura would have his opinions being the mother figure to them that he was.

The chill of the night wind hits his face the moment he steps out of the bar, mumblings of conversations on the busy street floating around, the path to the next bar he was scheduled for familiar. 

The night is darkened entirely, moon high above and street lights casting a glow on his hair and reflecting off his watch, the peaceful disorder of Kabukicho something equivalent to home. Once there, he sees his client sitting on the far end of the bar’s counter and he moves quietly into the seat next to him, his drink already ordered, hand already on his thigh. 

In that moment, something far in the back of his mind wonders if Hijikata’s hand would feel any different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I having a little too much fun with all these boys. (also, Takasugi. I know right. bet you thought you'd never see him in my writing.)  
> y'all have a good day. :))
> 
> (also also, my Ikumatsu and Katsura ship is showing because they're just cute.)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this story maybe a couple of years back and now that im like okay at writing i decided to give it a second life
> 
> also please be patient with my sex scenes we're ~learning~ haha see y'all soon <3  
> please recycle!


End file.
